Newsflash: We Have A Hostage Situation
by starfoxx322
Summary: Arthur is the editor of a New York City newspaper who is forced to go out on assignment when his star reporter won't answer his phone. There was no way he could have anticipated the first page news that would unfold. Rated PG-13 for language and boy love.
1. Chapter 1

"Bye Artie! I'm headin' out for lunch, catch you later!"

Arthur Kirkland looked up from the article he was editing just in time to see to see his star reporter dash past his office and towards the elevator.

"Alfred, come back here this instant! You still have work to do!"

Arthur jumped out of his chair and prepared to pursue him, but it was too late. By the time Arthur got out of his office, Alfred was waving at him from behind closing elevator doors. There was nothing left to do but sigh and go back to his own job. As he sat down in his extremely comfortable leather chair, he checked the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes before Alfred's lunch break was scheduled to start. How typical. Ever since he had hired Alfred over a year ago, the American had been a complete slack-off. He was always dashing off in the middle of the workday for seemingly no reason, besides getting a longer break for lunch.

He was literally forced to admit that Alfred was the best reporter he had. And even if he had not lost a drunken bet at the last office New Year's party (a bet that resulted in the single most embarrassing "official" memo of his life so far,) he could acknowledge that the young reporter had a talent for headline news. Al was great at his job. Arthur simultaneously loved and hated the idea of firing him, because Arthur also simultaneously loved and hated Al. Recently, however, his feelings of love seemed to be overwhelming the hate at every turn. Even the stupidest of actions were somehow endearing when Alfred was the one performing them. The reporter was impossible to stay mad at, which was very problematic for his editor. It would have been much easier for Arthur if he could just hate, or at least dislike Al completely. Instead, he got a jumbled up mix of emotions that left him with a headache.

He began picking his way through Feliciano Vargas's weekly cooking column, carefully editing out all the nonsense words and superfluous descriptions of the godly aspects of pasta. He had made good headway into the article when a general sort of chaos erupted outside his office door. Arthur looked up from his computer screen just in time to see one of his photographers, Elizabeta Héderváry, burst through the door, camera in hand.

"The Parisian just robbed the Metropolitan Art Museum down the street and Captain Freedom just showed up to stop him!"

Arthur immediately sprang into action. He simultaneously saved what he had on Feli's article, grabbed his phone to call Alfred, and barked out instructions to Elizabeta. Captain Freedom was New York City's hottest super hero at the moment. Despite the fact that he was a relatively new super, The Captain had immediately gained popularity with his dashing smile and boyish attitude. In Arthur's opinion, Captain Freedom's powers of super strength and the ability to fly weren't very original and overall he was like something out of an old comic book.

However, since the Captain was so popular, Arthur felt obliged to keep at least somewhat up to date with the hero's doings. He told himself it was so he could report on the Captain more effectively. There was no way he was like the general population, completely hooked on the hero's every move. Indeed, any newspaper worth its salt had a reporter on call at every hour of the day in case Captain Freedom appeared. Unfortunately for Arthur, his Captain Freedom reporter was out at lunch, and he wasn't answering his phone.

"Captain Freedom is up at the Metro Art Museum and since you're too busy slacking off to do your damned job, I'm off to do it for you. See you when I get back from covering for your incompetent arse," he told Alfred's voice mail curtly before slamming the phone down onto the receiver. He could already feel the pain gathering behind his temples, but there was no time to think about that. He only paused to pick up his cell phone and a small notebook before dashing out the door to catch his story.

On the elevator ride down, he called Elizabeta to make sure she, as well, was on her way to Capital Bank and to inform her that on account of Alfred being a moron, Arthur would be the on-scene reporter. Fortunately, Capital Bank was just a few blocks to the east of the building where he worked. By the time Arthur got there, he had not missed anything that he couldn't learn from a witness interview. Nevertheless, he wasted no time in elbowing his way to the front of the crowd.

"Where are they?" Arthur muttered to himself as he scanned the scene. There was no doubt that the Captain and The Parisian had been here. The front of the bank was in complete ruins and it looked like The Parisian had been using his trade mark grenades quite generously. Some large pieces of debris were scattered in a way that implied Captain Freedom had been throwing them around.

He was contemplating ducking past the police to see if the fight had moved to the inside of the bank when something fell from the sky at lightning-fast speed, hitting the ground with an earth-shaking crash. Arthur grabbed the barrier to steady himself, looking up just in time to see Captain Freedom pick himself up and take to the air again. Not two seconds later, The Parisian swooped down, balancing on his hovercraft with practiced ease. The two clashed in midair, The Parisian using his sword to attack while Captain Freedom relied on his fists.

If there was ever a villain Arthur hated, it had to be the famous art thief, The Parisian. Naturally, most of the supervillains annoyed him, but The Parisian was something of a special case. For one, he was so ambiguously French that it made Arthur want to punch something. Arthur had been born and raised in Britain, and his very stereotypical English father had instilled a strong dislike of all things French in his son. After living in America, land of the free and culturally diverse, Arthur had come to tolerate small amounts of Frenchness, but The Parisian was just too much for him to handle. The villain was lewd, over the top, dramatic, flashy, annoying, his powers messed with people's emotions, and no one knew the first thing about his past, his motivations, or anything else about him, really. Arthur could not wait for the day that Captain Freedom or someone—anyone—got rid of him once and for all.

It didn't seem like today would be that day though. The Parisian was cleverly playing on Captain Freedom's weaknesses—specifically, the Captain's enormous hero complex. In typical comic book fashion, the Captain felt a huge responsibility for the safety of the general public. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that the fight would have been over long ago if it weren't for the crowd of onlookers. The Frenchman started lobbing bombs at the pedestrians every time the American gained too much of an advantage. Captain Freedom would have to go out of his way to deflect the explosives, and The Parisian would attack at the first available opening. The Captain would have to defend himself and he'd turn his attention back to their fight until The Parisian felt he was losing. The lousy Frenchman would begin to attack the crowd again, and the cycle would start over.

Arthur watched from the sidelines, silently cheering Captain Freedom on. Even though he thought the Captain could be a bit foolish and naïve, he was very fond of the super, who reminded him of Alfred in a way that was almost uncanny at times. They way they talked, acted, and even held themselves was eerily similar. There were days when Arthur would watch interviews with the hero, think back to the Superman comics Al had forced him to read, and wonder… But then he would decide that it was all too obvious and Alfred simply couldn't be Captain Freedom, because things like that didn't just happen in real life. His secret crush was not a superhero in any way, and Arthur knew he ought to be ashamed of himself for fantasizing about Alfred in such a way. Regardless, he often felt himself becoming irrationally worried about the super when he heard about the Captain's latest death defying escapade.

Now, for instance, he felt anxious watching the Captain do battle with the French villain. Just one small misstep and it would be over for him. Arthur watched anxiously as The Parisian made a swipe at his opponent. The Captain flew back just in time to dodge, but a strong breeze or something of the sort caught him off guard, making him lose his balance. Arthur watched with wide eyes as the Frenchman darted in to deliver the final blow.

"Look out!"

Arthur wasn't sure who cried out, but Captain Freedom's attention was directed towards the crowd. For a moment, it seemed as if the hero was looking right at him. Then the crowd surged forward and he was swept off his feet. The police barrier toppled over and Arthur went with it, his notes flying out of his hands. He hit the ground hard, but immediately scrambled up after his notebook and the precious notes recorded in it. The book was on the ground not far in front of him, but before he could grab onto it, someone picked him up roughly and held something metallic and cold to his throat.

"Stop right there, mon ami, or this poor man will pay the price."

Arthur stiffened as he assessed the situation. He was being held (uncomfortably close!) by The Parisian, who was holding a sword to his throat. Captain Freedom had landed a few yards in front of them and was glaring at the villain with all his might. Arthur was being held hostage, by the villain he despised the most. It would make a wonderful story, Arthur found himself musing wryly. It would certainly be nice if he lived to report it.

TBC...

* * *

_Author notes: This was written for the USUK Secret Santa exchange over at livejournal. People are really whipping out some awesome stories and fanarts this year, you should go and check it out! _

_If you want to read the story at my lj, it can be found at http:/ /starfoxx322. livejournal. com/ 6090. html (just get rid of the spaces)_

_Many thanks to my beloved daughter for whipping my wordiness and utter lack of grammar and spelling skills into shape. Also, let it be known that I cannot think of a good superhero/villain name to save my life. I apologize to the world for my failure. _

_This was a gift for sweet_tard over at lj. Sweet_tard, I hope you and everyone else enjoys it! _


	2. Chapter 2

This was definitely not a good situation. There was no denying it.

Alfred F. Jones could deny a lot of things. He could deny that he was Captain Freedom—it was just a really cool coincidence that they kind of looked and acted alike. He could deny that he was secretly in love with his boss—Arthur Kirkland was a stuffy old man who hated him anyway. He denied that he sang oldies in the shower, that he still wore superhero pajamas, that he kind of liked the smell of tea because it reminded him of Arthur. The list of things Alfred could deny was almost unhealthily long. However, the blatant not-goodness of this situation simply did not fit on that list.

Arthur Kirkland, the stuffy green-eyed editor with enormous eyebrows and a drop dead sexy accent, was being held hostage by one of the most troublesome villains Alfred had ever come across. The mysterious, yet stylish Parisian was holding a sword to Arthur's throat and leering at Alfred unpleasantly. It was almost as if he knew how Alfred felt about him—then again, that wasn't impossible. The Parisian seemed to have an uncanny influence over people's emotions, and it was possible that he could sense them as well.

"Let go of him," Alfred replied, willing his voice not to waver. He tried his best to keep a calm façade, but on the inside he was scared. Arthur shouldn't have even been here. Of course Alfred had chosen today to skip out to lunch early and forget his phone. Next thing he knew, his technical assistant Kiku was radioing him through his watch to tell him that the Parisian was attempting another robbery at the Metro Art Museum. There had been no time to find a pay phone and call Arthur and tell him he had the story.

Normally he had the situation under control. A villain would attack and Arthur would tell him to get his lazy arse to the site of the catastrophe and wait for Captain Freedom to show up or Kiku would radio him about some disaster, he'd tell Arthur he'd received a tip, and he'd dash off to save the day. The system he had going worked and no one was any the wiser when it came to Alfred's secret identity. He'd never counted on something like this happening.

The Parisian just smirked, seeing through Alfred's confident words. "And why should I do that, hmm? It seems to me as long as I have him, I have the upper hand, non?" A saccharine grin spread across the Frenchman's face as he ran a hand up Arthur's thigh.

Alfred gritted his teeth and his hands clenched into fists. There was nothing he could do to stop him, not without hurting Arthur. His only consolation was the fact that Arthur did not take well to being felt up or being held hostage. Being touched so lewdly shook Arthur out of his shock at being captured, and the Brit began to express his discontent with the situation.

"Bloody frog! Get your damn filthy hands of me this instant!" Arthur snapped, a light blush forming on his cheeks as he squirmed in the Parisian's hold.

The blood was pounding in his ears as they climbed higher. Arthur was okay with flying, but not with this. All that kept him from plummeting to the ground was the French villain's somewhat less than secure grip. Captain Freedom was chasing after them, flying as fast as he could. He could see the tip of the hero's tongue sticking out in concentration, just like Alfred's did when he was focusing on his writing…

Before he could mentally berate himself for thinking about that idiot at a time like this, their rapid ascent jerked to a halt. Arthur's stomach lurched from the sudden stop, and again when he noticed that they had cleared the tops of the surrounding sky scrapers. Captain Freedom caught up to them and made a grab for the editor. For a moment, Arthur thought he was saved. However, the Parisian nimbly dodged out of the way, laughing openly at the Captain's futile attempt.

Alfred frowned deeply, glaring at the villain. He didn't have to be a complete superhero buff to know where this was going. The Frenchman just leered at him, a glint of challenge in his eyes, and pulled Arthur closer in a way that was obviously meant to be intimate. Arthur loudly voiced his objections and tried as best he could to squirm away—not that he really could in his current situation—and Alfred snapped.

"Let him go!" he yelled at the top of his voice and immediately regretted it. He had just fallen into one of the stupidest superhero clichés ever. Of all the dumb things heroes did, this was one of the few he promised himself he'd avoid. For once he agreed with the mini-Arthur in his head calling him a bloody idiot.

The Parisian stared at him, biting back a laugh. "I would insult you for your stupidity, but you're making it far too easy, mon ami. It's not even fun anymore," he said as he rolled his eyes.

"I know, I take it back, please don't-!" Alfred's panicked ramblings were cut off by a single word from the smirking French villain.

"Non." And then he did as he was told, letting go of Arthur and letting him plummet towards the ground below.

Arthur was too scared to even scream. All that he could really comprehend was that he the air was rushing past him and the ground was rapidly approaching.

And suddenly, he wasn't falling. He found himself pressed against a strong chest and when he looked up he was met with sky blue eyes hidden behind a stars-and-stripes mask. He was struck by the similarity between Captain Freedom's eyes and Alfred's—not that he spent a good amount of time looking at Alfred's eyes, mind you!—but the panic quickly shoved that thought out of his mind along with most of the others. The only thing he could do was cling to the hero like some useless damsel.

Meanwhile, all Alfred could do was breathe a sigh of relief that Arthur was safe in his arms. He didn't even care that the Parisian had gotten away with some valuable art and that the museum would complain about the loss of its precious treasures—not to mention the property damages. He could deal with those later. Right now, his first priority was getting Arthur to the ground and making sure he was okay.

They touched down on the pavement as the crowd of relieved onlookers cheered. Arthur was too shell-shocked to really hear them or understand what was going on. He'd just reconciled himself with his seemingly imminent death, but now that he was alive, he didn't quite know how to handle this sudden turn of events. His brain slowly began to reboot again once his feet were on solid ground and the more he became aware of the situation, the more he wanted out of it. He'd just been saved from a villain like some bloody damsel in distress. It was embarrassing. Besides, he had lost all his notes, so he really needed to get in front of a computer and get the story down before he forgot it all.

"You okay?" Captain Freedom asked him, concern showing in his eyes. "Do you want me to take you to a hospital or something, get you checked out?" He held out his hand to steady Arthur as the Brit took a few shaky steps, but Arthur huffed and politely pushed away the proffered support.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you, just a bit shaken up. There's no need to make a fuss. I should really get back to the office, it's only a few blocks away and I'm perfectly capable of finding my own way there, thank you very much."

Alfred internally groaned at his employer's ever present stubbornness. Typical Arthur, refusing help, even when he'd just had a near death experience.

"C'mon, if you're not going to get looked at now, at least let me take you to your work. That way if you faint it won't be out in the middle of the street or something." Alfred gave him a look that said he was absolutely not going to back down and Arthur returned a similar look before relenting.

"Well, if you absolutely insist, I work at the Daily Post, so if you could just drop me off there, that would be ideal." Arthur pouted, crossing his arms in a way that he hoped would indicate that, _no it would not be ideal, just leave me be, _but the verbal cue seemed to fly right over the hero's head as his face lit up in a smile.

"Righto, that's not too far, we'll be there in a jiff!" Before Arthur could protest, Alfred scooped him up bridal style and prepared to take off. Arthur's eyes widened in fear as he grasped the situation.

"Wait, we're not going to fly, are—ohjesusfuckingchrist if you drop me I will fucking kill you, bastard…!"

Alfred laughed at the Brit's reaction to their sudden take off and Arthur held onto the hero for dear life. "Not used to flying?" Alfred asked innocently, enjoying the sight of Arthur's ears turning red from a combination of anger and embarrassment. The editor looked the other way and muttered something about open air and danger, trying to mask his nervousness. Alfred smiled, amused, in reply and made sure the short flight to the Daily Post's headquarters was as smooth as possible.

It was only when they landed on the roof that they both realized Arthur was clinging to the hero almost unnecessarily tightly. Arthur's cheeks went red and he immediately pushed against Captain Freedom's (extremely well muscled, not that he had been thinking that the entire trip) chest. Alfred grinned and set him down carefully before he could have a hissy fit. Arthur gave a small "hmph" and brushed some imaginary dust off of his shirt before turning towards the door that led from the roof to the rest of the building.

Alfred watched him walk away and saw his chance to finally woo Arthur leave with him. He had waited over a year for the chance to do something that would impress Arthur so he could ask him out, and now he couldn't without risking his identity. He trusted Arthur, he really did, but at the same there were so many things that could go wrong the moment he took off his mask and told Arthur the truth.

Sure, he could have asked Arthur out as Captain Freedom, he supposed, (it had worked for Superman and Lois Lane, right?) but he didn't want that. He wanted them to be just Arthur and Alfred, not some celebrity superhero couple.

So he couldn't confess now, but he'd just saved Arthur's life, goddammit, and that had to count for something. He wanted to leave Arthur with something to remember him by, so later, after he finally worked up the courage to ask Arthur out and they'd been dating happily for awhile he could say "Hey, remember that one time when Captain Freedom saved you and…" Then Arthur would know it was Alfred who saved him that day and that Alfred had loved him back then as well. It would be awesome and romantic, and maybe a bit sappy, but Alfred didn't care. It would be with Arthur and that was what he wanted more than anything. But if that was ever going to happen, he needed to act now. He swallowed heavily as he watched Arthur's retreating back and willed the right words to come out of his mouth.

In the end, all he could manage was a shaky "h-hey," but luckily, it was loud enough to get Arthur's attention. Alfred looked at him, looked into those ridiculously green eyes, and put all the confidence and courage he could muster into what he was going to say next.

"I think the hero usually gets some sort of reward from the damsel he rescues, right? Like, uh… maybe, y'know… a kiss…?" Alfred flashed his best superhero grin and prayed it didn't look too nervous and unheroic because, on the inside, he was shaking. Arthur's eyes widened as he turned to face the other fully. Alfred had never seen him blush more attractively. Arthur's mouth opened and closed a couple times, searching for words.

"I-! I… how do you… I'm not a damsel…! What even makes you think I'd like a kiss from you anyway?" he managed to splutter, eyes directed toward the ground near Captain Freedom's gaudy red boots. He couldn't meet the hero's sky blue eyes, eyes that were too much like Alfred's to be a coincidence because if it wasn't a coincidence and Alfred really was Captain Freedom it was all too good to be true and now that he'd gone and gotten his hopes up, he couldn't handle having them dashed when it turned out that it really was too good to be true and he was wrong about Alfred and—

Captain Freedom (Alfred?) closed the distance between them and gently lifted Arthur's chin, and he had no choice but to look up and meet those eyes that he dreaded and loved all at once. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest as he froze like a deer in the headlights, unable to think of anything but those blue eyes gazing down at him.

Alfred's heart also began racing as their eyes finally met. When Arthur had agreed—rather, hadn't exactly said no to the prospect of a kiss—his body had just sort of moved of its own accord. They were just inches apart, and he knew there was no turning back now.

Eyes half-lidded, he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Arthur's and praying to every god he'd ever heard of that Arthur wouldn't pull away. It took a few moments for the editor's brain to unfreeze itself, but slowly, surely, he started kissing back because he knew. There was no way he could have forgotten those lips. At last New Year's Party when Alfred was completely drunk and Arthur himself had been quite a bit tipsy, they'd kissed under the mistletoe outside Elizabeta's cubicle and even though Alfred was so wasted he hadn't remembered, the way he kissed now was more or less the same: eagerly, with chapped lips that had a certain softness underneath, in a way that made Arthur melt.

"Alfred," he breathed and Alfred knew that he knew and that somehow it was okay. He broke away and slipped off his mask, revealing that grinning, idiotic, beautiful face that Arthur had truly grown to love.

"Hey boss."

The carefree words hung in the air between them, and Alfred kept smiling down at him like some stupid Cheshire cat. Arthur didn't know if he was pissed off or deliriously happy, but the dopey grin on the reporter/hero's face was infectious and before long he found the corners of his own lips quirking up.

"You," Arthur started, voice shaking ever so slightly as he recovered from the emotional equivalent of jumping off the roof into a mattress truck. "You have quite a lot of explaining to do. I expect you in my office as soon as you're changed and you are not leaving until I'm thoroughly satisfied."

It occurred to Alfred that he might be in some sort of trouble, but he'd just kissed Arthur Kirkland, the man he'd been chasing after for over a year, so he was pretty sure it had been worth it. He just laughed and pulled Arthur into a tight hug.

"Sure thing, boss. Sure thing."


End file.
